


Where We Come Alive

by evieeden



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Domestic Avengers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Bucky Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Steve Rogers Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:55:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27827119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evieeden/pseuds/evieeden
Summary: After the battle comes the pause. After the pause comes decisions.(Or Steve Rogers decides to retire and Bucky comes along for the ride.)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	Where We Come Alive

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since my last set of advent fics, but I thought I'd have another go. I haven't got too much written in advance of this story, so I'm hoping that even if I don't get to post everyday, I'll still be able to finish a nice story by Christmas. This is also basically my way of fixing Endgame (especially the end) as I feel like this year I've had way too much time to dwell on it.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy the story and I apologise in advance for any errors/typos, as I'm pretty much just writing and posting as I go.
> 
> The title is from the Ruelle song (if you haven't heard it, it's lovely and I adore it) and I was struggling for chapter titles so I've raided my 'Good Tunes' playlist for more song titles.
> 
> Enjoy and happy 1st December.

There was a pause.

A horrible long pause, where everything seemed frozen: the air tight and ready to burst, the humming of nothing in his ears almost deafening. A horrible long pause where for an awful moment, Bucky thought that Steve had changed his mind when he said that he would definitely come back after returning the infinity stones.

The way he had hugged him for slightly too long; the way he had said goodbye; the old insults. The final smile.

Bucky clenched his fists tightly within the pockets of his jacket, forcing him not to outwardly react. He couldn’t. Not in front of people.

He could already see Bruce and Sam beginning to tense up out of the corner of his eye when the countdown reached zero and Steve didn’t immediately appear.

He closed his eyes, not wanting to see what happened next.

Then, like a pin in a balloon, there was a loud pop and Steve burst into form on the platform again. He was panting, covered in blood from a wound on his head, and in his arms, looking small and broken, was Natasha.

Bucky’s brain short-circuited. He barely heard the cries of surprise from Bruce and Sam.

Steve stood there, tall and resolute, for about a half second before he staggered and crashed to one knee.

Instinct had Bucky leaping onto the platform to brace him before he fell over or dropped Natasha. Steve’s shoulder was slick with blood seeping from somewhere, but he was solid beneath Bucky’s hand. Solid and real and alive and here. Steve half-collapsed against his arm, nearly crushing Natasha between them.

Luckily, Sam sprang into action. Rushing forward, he helped slowly lower Natasha to the floor, checking her vitals and yelling at Bruce to contact the Wakandans.

Bucky didn’t even have a chance to think about what it meant – that Steve had come back – until he was sat next to him on a quinjet, speeding his way to Birnin Zana. Natasha was in the back, being kept alive by the combined efforts of Sam, Bruce and Stephen Strange, who had teleported to upper New York after a panicked phone call. Steve was frozen next to him, having been pushed, shoved and bullied into the co-pilot seat while Bucky quickly got the bird in the air as fast as possible. He had never seen the other man so quiet before. He thought he might be in shock.

Hell, he thought _he_ was in shock.

He had been sure, so sure, that he was losing Steve. They had talked about it the night before he left to return the stones, about the possibilities that the Pym particles opened for him. They had talked about going back in time, about Steve’s visit to Camp Lehigh. Steve had described what it felt like to see Peggy again, how it hurt to see her restored to health and not let her know he was there.

He still got starry eyed over her. Who could blame him? Peggy Carter was a hell of a woman. Even Bucky, viewing her through a green-tinged haze, could admit that Steve couldn’t do any better than her.

He had thought that was it in that moment. The way Steve had clung to him before he had stepped up onto that platform told him that the possibility of his best friend returning to him after putting the stones back in their rightful place was slim. He could barely stand to watch as Bruce counted down the opening of the portal.

That Steve would find something in this strange, bright future worth returning for, let alone to do so with a woman who days earlier had been dead, was head-spinning.

Although, now that he looked at Steve, maybe the shock was partially from whatever had happened when he had retrieved Natasha. He was still sat there in his protective suit, the splashes of red marring the white reminding Bucky that when Steve had returned he had been covered in blood and that not all of it was Natasha’s.

Setting the steering onto auto-pilot, Bucky slipped out of his seat and fetched the only first aid kit on the jet that wasn’t currently being used to keep the Widow alive. It didn’t have much in it, but it would be enough until they reach Wakanda and Bucky could get Steve cleaned up and patched up with some actual supplies.

Steve didn’t respond to his gentle coaxing about getting patched up, just continuing to sit staring into space, so Bucky was forced to manhandle him out of both suits, exposing a series of cuts and bruises, most of which were already in the process of healing. There was a long stab wound in Steve’s side which Bucky didn’t like the look of though and the wide gash on the side of his head near his hairline, which hadn’t closed as much as he expected.

With fumbling hands, Bucky used the medi-wipes he had found to clean as much of the blood and dirt out of the wounds as possible, before clumsily sealing up the skin with surgical glue and trying to patch a gauze dressing over the injuries. It wasn’t his best job. Hell, he had done better jobs of patching himself up when he was half out of his mind, but it was the best he could do with limited supplies and an unresponsive Steve.

Pressing down the tape over the dressing on Steve’s face, he allowed himself a slip, his fingers trailing over the now bare face of his oldest friend. Just days ago – _five years ago!_ – he had been long haired and bearded, looking powerful, strong and assured. They had stood shoulder to shoulder and Bucky had known once again that he would follow this man anywhere, even into the depths of hell and war.

Now, he looked painfully young and lost, his unfocused eyes staring out into nothing. He barely seemed aware that Bucky was there at all.

Cursing himself for taking advantage, Bucky dropped his hand, turning back to the main compartment of the quinjet to scrounge up some clothes for Steve that didn’t have tears in it. Steve took them mechanically, stripping out of his uniform without thinking and dropping back into the seat once he was done.

Bucky frowned, but didn’t say anything. In truth, he had no clue what to say or if Steve would even respond. Instead, he stepped over the abandoned Captain America uniform and returned to the control panel, taking back over piloting as they flew over Gambian airspace. He didn’t technically need to guide the quinjet in, but the repetitive actions were soothing when everything else was so up in the air.

As they landed on the palace runway, he could see T’Challa, Shuri and the Dora Milaje waiting. It reminded him of just days earlier – five years earlier – when he had been the one waiting on the fringes of a similar crowd as Steve had arrived with Vision and Wanda, bringing war with him. As much as being in New York was familiar and needed, he had missed the simplicity and heat that had marked his life in Wakanda since Shuri had removed his triggers.

Then, the ramp was being lowered and the Wakandan doctors, along with Sam, Bruce and Strange, were springing into action barely before Bucky had had a chance to switch off the quinjet’s engine. Natasha was loaded onto a stretcher and wheeled away it felt before he could even blink.

Stretching out awkwardly, Bucky stood and held out a hand to Steve who stared it blankly for a second, before grasping it and allowing Bucky to steer him towards the exit. He wrapped an arm around his friend’s waist, shoring him up and taking the bulk of Steve’s weight which seemed to sag against him. Blinking against the bright light of the midday sun, Bucky caught sight of more figures dressed in blue, waiting, along with T’Challa and Okoye.

More doctors. Probably here for Steve. Someone, and he suspected it could only be Sam, must have alerted them to the fact that Natasha wasn’t the only one with injuries.

“Here, Pal,” he tried to inject his voice with as much reassurance as possible, “you’ve got some proper docs to look after you here. Better than the patch up job I’ve done for you.”

He watched Steve anxiously out of the corner of his eye, willing the other man to accept help and not be stubborn about it. To his shock, Steve merely sighed and then nodded.

“Great.” Bucky wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Let’s go then. We’ll get you fighting fit in no time.” He started to shuffle forward, half carrying, half dragging Steve with him.

“No!”

Steve stopped and Bucky nearly stumbling at the sudden loss of momentum.

“No?” He didn’t understand.

Steve swallowed heavily, opening his mouth to speak several times before he could finally get it out.

“No more fighting. I’m done. No more.”

He dragged himself away from Bucky’s supporting arm and slowly, painfully straightened up.

“I’m done. I quit.”

His words dropped between them like a loaded stone and then he was off, staggering unsteadily over to greet T’Challa.

And all Bucky could do was watch him go.


End file.
